


Can't Hit That

by Demerite



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politicians, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Cuddling, Drinking, F/F, F/M, First Lady!Una, Identity Issues, Impaired Consent, Insomnia, Kobayashi Maru, Light Angst, Love Triangle, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meet-Cute, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Offscreen Homophobia, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Power Outage, President!Chris, Shore Leave, Spoilers for Enterprise War, Trust Issues, hopelessness, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: Some problems can't be solved by hitting.
Relationships: Christopher Pike/Ash Tyler | Voq, Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca/Katrina Cornwell/ James T. Kirk, Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Michael Burnham/Philippa Georgiou, Michael Burnham/Sylvia Tilly, Number One/Christopher Pike, Pavel Chekov/Montgomery "Scotty" Scott, Philip Boyce/Number One/Christopher Pike
Comments: 50
Kudos: 38





	1. Insomnia (Chris/Una/Phil)

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Problems That Can't Be Solved By Hitting" bingo card. Tags, ships, and warnings will update by chapter.
> 
> -
> 
> This chapter continues on from the events of the novel "Enterprise War" and contains some spoilers if you haven't read it!

Chris isn't sure how long he's been staring out into the darkness when Number One finds him. His thoughts are as much in turmoil as the clouded gases of the nebula, twisting and roiling, nearly impossible to navigate. He's in the tunnel, he's in the cave with Vina, he's in his broken ship, he's in the battlesuit, he's in the mineshaft, he's - he's on the observation deck, staring out into space, and Una is a few steps away from him.

"Trouble sleeping?" She asks, and when he turns to look at her, she looks as exhausted as he feels, the kinda of bone-deep ache of weariness that only comes after weeks and months of high alert, of fighting to survive. He can't even _begin _to image what it was like for her, not only commanding the ship in his absence (something he knows she is more than capable of doing) but doing so while being bonded to a foreign alien intelligence. Trying to manage the crew, and the Rengru, has taken a toll on his first officer.

"Just thinking." He murmurs back.

Her raised eyebrow is all the question he really needs.

"Not about that." He shakes his head. He hasn't thought about resigning since they pulled the two halves of the ship back together. Not really.

Wordlessly, she steps up to the railing by the windows, and leans against it, angling her body a little ways towards him, but not reaching out to make contact. That's Una for you, always reserved, always the professional, waiting calmly for someone to make the first move so she can calculate her response.

Chris slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in until she's tucked against his side. She leans her head on his shoulder then, and he breathes in the clean scent of her shampoo, standard-issue, but it still smells different on her somehow. They haven't had the luxury to just _be _with one another for so long.

"How's the neck?" He asks after a few minutes have passed.

"Fine." She reassures him. "Barely a scar."

"Well that's okay then." He says lightly, "I hear all the girls go crazy for scars."

She laughs, low and warm, "They do not, so you'd better keep that face of yours looking pretty."

"Message received and understood Commander." He leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, and she doesn't pull away.

"There you two lovebirds are."

The pair turns to see Phil leaning on the wall, just inside the doorframe, hands in pockets, the picture of nonchalance.

"In my defence, I _was _looking for him." Una uncurls from Chris' side, just enough that he's already missing her warmth, but she tugs him along after her as she crosses the deck, "He was brooding."

"Of course he was." Phil says, and Chris feels like he should be objecting to being so thoroughly _known, _but he can't bring himself to complain. There's nothing wrong with having people who understand you, he tells himself firmly. 


	2. Failed Test (Jim/Leonard)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between Jim's second and third attempts at the Kobayashi Maru.

"I failed it." Jim snarls, stalking into their dorm. 

"I'm pretty sure that's the point." Leonard doesn't even look up from his PADD. He still doesn't know why Jim wanted to attempt the damn test a second time, but he'd been adamant that he wasn't going to have any part in it. Not after the first time. He'd promised Jim once through it, not twice, and he'd had clinic anyway. 

"I don't care." Jim is fuming, pacing back and forth between their beds, "I'm gonna pass it! I _have _to!" His voice has risen to a near-shout, and when Leonard turns to look at him, he's got that wild, cornered look that he'd worn so often when they'd first met, nearly three years ago now. It's the look of Jim Kirk about to have a very bad idea, that will probably be both physically and mentally damaging to others, but mostly to himself. It's the look that's been the prelude to arguments and bar fights and Jim lashing out to push anyone close to him as far away as he can, lest he has to open up and make himself vulnerable to them. 

It's also the look that means Jim is going to punch something soon. Possibly a wall, and Leonard is in no mood to break out the regen he'd stolen from the on-campus clinic last year when it became clear that Jim couldn't be _dragged _there unless he was actively bleeding out, just to fix split knuckles.

"Come here." He says instead, and Jim turns on him, glaring. 

Leonard returns his gaze cooly, and pats the bed next to him. Jim eyes him, suspicious and guarded, which is his default state when someone offers him something and he can't immediately see their motivations. 

"Come _here_," Leonard repeats. 

Jim hesitates only a second longer before he joins him on the bed, settling cautiously into a seated position beside him. 

Leonard doesn't let him stew for long, just slings an arm around his shoulders and tugs Jim against his side. They've done this a few times recently; curled up next to each other when the prospect of trying to sleep in an empty bed is too much, when the world around them just seems too big and overwhelming. They don't discuss it, and Leonard is pretty sure that Jim would bite his head off if he tried, so it has to be enough. 

"I'm taking it again." Jim says after a while, his head resting on Leonard's shoulder. 

"Jim." Leonard sighs, "They're not gonna let you." 

Jim grumbles softly, but he doesn't move away, and Leonard doesn't either, content to let him lean on him. He'll take the test with Jim again, if he manages to convince the board he's allowed to have a third attempt. If anyone can do it, it will be Jim Kirk.

“They will.” Jim says, but there’s no heat in it, “And you’ll be there, right?” 

Leonard sighs. “Yeah, Jim.” He promises, “I’ll be there.” 


	3. Loneliness (Gabriel/Kat, Gabriel/Kat/Jim)

She's not lonely. Sure, her husband sometimes vanishes for weeks, or months, on end for nondescript 'work things' that are technically classified, and she's moved so many times now that even with the internet, maintaining friendships is difficult at the best of times, but that's not what would have the potential to make her feel desperately alone, were she a different woman. 

No, the thing that would be isolating and heartbreaking is Gabriel's habit of _sleeping around. _

She's known about it from the beginning, obviously. They'd talked about it for the first time less than a year into their relationship, young and stupid and a little drunk, passing a bottle back and forth under the night sky. They'd laughed about the idea, serious conversation buried under innuendo, and forgotten about it in the morning. 

They'd broken up and gotten back together near as half a dozen times over the next few years, finally settling into marriage and something approaching stability. So Kat doesn't mind Gabriel sleeping around, not when sometimes, he brings his conquests home, but this is just ridiculous. 

"Does the phrase 'robbing the cradle' mean anything to you, Gabe?" She asks, arms folded across her chest. She regards her husband and his - their - guest with her eyebrows raised. She has to admit - internally and not anywhere Gabriel can hear her - that this guy is gorgeous. 

"Hey, he's nineteen!" Gabriel objects, "I even checked his ID." 

"I'm also _right here_." The guy points out, uncoiling from where he's leaning against the living room door frame like he owns the apartment. He's got a sort of shy brazenness that Kat immediately likes; something in the way he tips his head downwards and looks at her through his lashes, his almost unnaturally blue eyes seeming to shine in her direction. 

"Well, do you have a name?" Kat asks, standing from her seat on the sofa. She's wearing an old academy tee and sweats, her hair tied back, she was settled in for an evening of Netflix with a glass of wine, knowing Gabriel wouldn't be home until late, but her husband always manages to surprise her. 

"Jim." The guy says with a smile, "And I already know that you're Katrina." 

"Kat." She corrects him, and she sees Gabriel smile from behind Jim's shoulder. He knows he's won, that she's accepted this newcomer, at least for the night. 

"Kat, then." He says, and up close, she can see that his smile is a little awkward, a little lopsided, and a lot charming. Damnit, Gabriel has always known how to pick them. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm sure." She smiles, reaching out a hand to tug him forward by the front of the soft grey t-shirt he's wearing under the leather jacket that looks like it would fit better on someone who had finished filling out. She notes the way he doesn't resist her, goes a little lax under her grip immediately. 

Oh yes, Gabriel definitely knows how to pick them. 


	4. Bad Habit (Gabriel/Kat, Gabriel/Kat/Jim)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation from the previous chapter.

"Those will kill you." Gabriel points out when he catches Jim smoking on the fire escape. 

It's cold out, but Jim's barefoot, his jeans slung low on his hips, his grey t-shirt offering scant protection from the icy winds that whip around the building. His eyes are distant, and he doesn't turn to Gabriel when he speaks, staring out somewhere over the harbour. 

"Something has to." His voice is low, a little rough from the smoke, and he accompanies the statement with a nonchalant shrug. 

Gabriel doesn't tell him to stop smoking, to put the cigarette out and come back inside where he's warm and he can take Jim back to bed again. Instead, he steps up beside him and leans his elbows on the cold metal railing, standing close enough that Jim can lean into him if he wants to. 

Jim doesn't, he just takes another inhale, and the tip of the cigarette flares bright in the dark of the early morning. The smoke billows in front of him as he exhales, the breath followed by a sigh. 

It's not companionable silence, or comfortable. There isn't some silent understanding that passes between them, but it's not awkward all the same. Jim smokes and stares at the city, and Gabriel watches Jim, and neither of them says anything. 

"I hate you both." Kat announces, standing in the doorway. She's wearing Gabriel's robe, the navy silk tied tight around her waist, "Get your asses inside before you both freeze." 

Gabriel raises his eyebrows at her, and she shoots him a sharp look. He nods to her, knowing that her complaining is cover for concern. They have agreements about not getting attached to the people he brings home, but she can't help but worry. Also, she's probably pissed about waking up alone. 

"We'd better do what the lady wants." Gabriel murmurs, and Jim sighs, taking another slow drag. 

"I can go." He offers, "I know our deal was just for the night." There's something haunted and empty in his eyes, and Gabriel knows a little - a lot - of what that's like. He _wants _to pull this stubborn, beautiful boy into his arms, wants to hold him close and keep him, but he won't. 

"Sun's not up yet." He says instead, and he does reach for Jim then, just enough to place a hand on his shoulder, "And I'm pretty sure our 'deal' involved breakfast." 

Jim huffs out a laugh, and puts his cigarette out on the railing. He lets Gabriel bring him back inside, and he doesn't baulk at being told to go brush his teeth and rinse his mouth before coming back to bed. 

Gabriel tucks him in between him and Kat, something she doesn't usually agree with - she prefers when he's in the middle - and they curl close around him until Jim falls back into restless sleep for another few hours, waking near noon, when Kat is brewing coffee, still in the too-big robe, her feet bare in the kitchen. 


	5. Power Outage (Chris/Una)

"Okay, you were right." Una mumbles, leaning back to look up at the bare beams above them.

"Sorry, what was that?" Chris teases from where he's setting a fire in the dusty grate, "Can you say that again? Possibly on record?"

Una kicks out at him with one bare foot, but she's too far away from him, sprawled out on the sofa, and he catches her ankle in one warm hand, tugging her off the cushions and onto the floor. Una shrieks with laughter, and he pulls her into his arms, right there on the faded rug, cuddling her close as he drops kisses all over her face.

The fire cracks and pops next to them, and Chris reluctantly lets her go so he can poke at the sparking kindling. Una watches him with a lazy smile on her face, enjoying watching him focus on the task in front of him with his usual level of intensity, and silently admits to herself, once again, that he was right. Spending their shore leave away from the _Enterprise _was a good idea, and renting the little cabin up in the mountains was an even better one. It's old-fashioned, made of wood, and the most involved technology apart from their communicators and Una's PADD are the electric lights and heating system.

Chris has still lit the fire, because apparently there's nothing quite like an open fire. Una knows it's just his natural tendency towards nostalgia, but somehow she still finds she likes it.

“So you were saying?” Chris asks, joining her on the couch. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Una states firmly, trying to summon some semblance of Command. It doesn’t work, her smile cracks the facade, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t need to wear that mask here.

“Sure you don’t,” Chris mutters, but there’s no malice in it, and he punctuates the statement with a kiss that starts out quick and chaste, but Una grabs him by the collar of his flannel shirt and pulls him close, letting the kiss turn slow and deep and warm.

It’s nice, Una thinks, to be able to kiss Chris whenever she wants, without first having to look around to make sure that the door is locked and there’s no-one else around. It's a luxury they don't usually get to have. 

She lets Chris press her back against the couch cushions, settles, warm and comfortable beneath his weight, arches her back into his touch as his hands skim up her sides beneath her sweater, moans and curses when his clever fingers find and roll a nipple, rocking her hips upwards without really thinking about it, just wanting to be closer, closer, closer. 

"Una..." Chris breathes against her skin. 

She's drawing a shaky breath, ready to tell him to get on with things, when all the lights in the cabin go out. 

In the golden firelight, Chris sits up and looks around. 

"Well fuck." He says, simply, and Una finds she has to agree. 


	6. Flat Tyre (Jim/Leonard)

“Fuck.” Leonard snarls, glaring at the hire car’s left-rear tyre. The left-rear tyre that is missing a lot of it’s air, as well as part of the rubber. Of all the places to end up with a flat, the middle of a road in the middle of a forest isn’t the nicest of them. The broken jack, the metal twisted and snapped because whoever put it in this car clearly hadn’t checked to see if it was actually rated high enough, makes the entire situation worse, but it’s Leonard’s phone, entirely out of battery and more useful as a blunt weapon than as a device with which to call for aid, that’s making the entire situation feel like the beginning of one of the terrible horror movies that Scotty is so obscenely fond of, but for the fact that Leonard isn’t some attractive young blonde.

So at least he’s unlikely to get murdered, out here in the dark.

Well, not by some creep who lives in a cabin, at least. Possibly by Phil, if he doesn't work out a way to get himself to the hotel in time for the opening of the conference tomorrow morning.

Leonard retreats to the driver’s seat to think, and to escape the cold that’s creeping in through his jacket. It’s freezing outside, and while it isn’t snowing at present, there’s enough on the ground that he knows there’s likely to be more, and soon. Something flashes in his rear-view mirror, and when Leonard looks up it's too see a light, moving along beside the road, bobbing a little.

A torch. Being carried by someone.

"Well, that's not ominous at all." Leonard mutters darkly. 

He only has a few moments to steel himself before the light is beside the car, and there's a knock on his window.

Leonard opens the window, just a crack.

"Car trouble?" Asks a voice, and Leonard looks up into bright blue eyes.

His brain supplies a warning about how trusting something just because they're attractive is a terrible idea, but Leonard disregards it.

"Yeah." He says with a shrug, "Flat.”

“Yeah, I saw the jack.” The man replies.

Leonard mutters something in the region of ‘piece of shit’ and the man smiles, just a little.

“You headed to the Northern Valley Hotel?” The man asks.

Leonard gives him a suspicious look, and the man rolls his eyes.

“It’s literally the only hotel in the area, and it’s still another 15 miles.” That explains that then, “Look, my place is less than a mile from here, let me give you a lift.”

Leonard thinks it over.

"Don't look at me like that! I'm _not _going to murder you in the forest!"

Leonard raises an eyebrow.

"Look." The man says, "Stay here and freeze if you want to, I'm just trying to help!" 

Leonard sighs, opens his door, and gets out of the car. "Lead the way then." He says.

"Right." A nod, "I'm Jim, by the way, Jim Kirk."

"Leonard McCoy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued


	7. Out of Gas (Jim/Leonard)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of two.

They trudge up the forest path together, Jim leading the way with his torch, Leonard trying to step where Jim does and ignore how cold it is. He considers that with his phone dead, he doesn't even have a light source of his own. 

"Please tell me you don't live on your own in a cabin in the middle of the woods." Leonard mutters, half under his breath, catching up to Jim. 

"I don't live on my own in a cabin in the woods." Jim says immediately. Far too immediately.

"Are you lying to me?" Leonard raises an eyebrow in Jim's direction as they walk.

"You asked me to tell you that!" Jim objects, "I'm just trying to be a good host!" 

Leonard mutters something disparaging to himself, and Jim sighs heavily. 

"I _do _live alone." He says, "But not in a creepy serial-killer way, I promise." He doesn't look at Leonard as he's talking, "I just...I don't get on with my family." He says it like it's the entire story, even though Leonard can hear, between the words, that it isn't. 

"Fair." Leonard says, when he realises that Jim is looking at him, guarded and cautious in a way Leonard just _knows _belies deeper issues, "I'm divorced." He offers, because it feels right, somehow. Like keeping them on an even footing. 

Jim doesn't say anything to that, which is better than the usual blaming or sympathetic looks - and sometimes outright comments - that Leonard is used to, and they walk in silence for a few minutes more, until Leonard can make out a light through the trees. 

The cabin, such as it is, is small and compact. There's a light in one of the windows, and smoke curling from the chimney, but otherwise the building is dark. Jim leads him straight to a battered looking, once-red truck. 

"Come on." He says, climbing up, "You've gotta slam the door, it doesn't shut right." He adds, when Leonard tries and fails to get the door to close on his first attempt. 

They make it as far as the bottom of the drive they'd walked up before the truck's engine coughs, splutters, and dies. 

"Well shit." Jim pronounces, which was about what Leonard is thinking. 

"This is feeling more and more like a horror movie." Leonard says, dryly, when Jim tries and fails to start the car again, the engine producing nothing more than a choked knocking sound. 

"I'm still not a murderer!" Jim grumbles back, sounding indignant, "I'd offer you the spare bed for the night, but there isn't one." 

Leonard shrugs, waits to see what Jim is going to say next. 

"But," Jim adds, "We could always share mine?" 

He's not blushing as he says it, but it's clearly a near thing. His expression is cautious and wanting and a little embarrassed. Leonard finds it adorable, and despite his best instinct telling him that he should turn and run, he just nods. 

"Okay." He says, "I hope you don't snore." 


	8. Air Leak (Ash/Chris)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: A character believes that they're going to die in this chapter.

The timer counts down, steady, inexorable. There's no stopping it, just like there's nothing stopping the low hiss of air escaping from Chris' EV suit. He has five minutes before he'll lose consciousness, and not much more before he loses his life. There's a team in a shuttle on their way to him, but they all know, they'll be coming to collect a corpse, not their captain.

At least he can enjoy the view.

And what a view it is. The nebula spreads in front of him, blue and yellow tendrils and gases mixing and twisting, the bright sparks of stars punctuating spaces of inky darkness. It would be beautiful, if it wasn't going to be the last thing he saw. 

He's already struggling to keep his eyes open, but there's one thing he has to do first.

It takes him precious seconds to call up the program he needs, a few more to ensure that it's recording, but he doesn't need any more time to work out what he's going to say.

"Ash." He says quietly, "I'm sorry." He wants to take a deep breath, but he's got precious-little air to do that with, "There's...so much I wanted to tell you. I just thought I had more time to say it." A breath, the air is starting to get thin, "I love you." He starts, "I know you know, but I like saying it." He laughs, short and sharp. His display is starting to fog up, "I...I was going to ask you to marry me. When we go on leave next month. No point keeping it a secret now." Another sharp, painful laugh. "I know you would have said yes, I know we've talked about it, but I wanted to ask. Call me old-fashioned."

Another warning blares across his HUD, and Chris knows that time is up. His luck has run out.

"I'm sorry, Ash." He manages, "I love you."

*

"I'm _so_ mad at you." Ash says, but he's smiling.

"I think that's fair." Chris manages. His throat is still raw, and he feels like hell, but he's alive, and that's the important bit. He's been in sickbay for two days, although he's only been awake for the last ten minutes. 

Ash has been holding onto his hand since he woke up, with a grip that is bordering on painful, but Chris isn't going to be the one to tell him that. 

"You scared the hell out of me." Ash grumbles. He leans in and presses a kiss, feather-light against Chris' forehead, "What have I told you about being a self-sacrificing asshole?" 

It's a conversation they've had enough times that Chris knows he isn't expected to answer. "I love you?" He tries instead, and Ash glares at him for a few breaths, before he sighs, a smile appearing. 

"I love you too." He mutters, "Oh and Chris?" 

"Yeah?" Chris has to struggle to focus on his face, exhaustion pulling him towards sleep again. 

"The answer is yes." 


	9. Burned Meal (Jim/Leonard)

"What the fuck did you do?" Is the first thing out of Leonard's mouth when he sees Jim standing in the snow outside their dorm building, wearing mismatched shoes, boxers, and a hoodie that Leonard it pretty damn sure belongs to him. Considering the fire truck parked by the front doors, and the rest of the building's inhabitants, also standing in the snow with Jim, Leonard is pretty sure he knows. 

"Why do you assume it was me?!" Jim objects loudly. 

"Because it _was _you!" Pavel, standing a few feet away with Scotty and Hikaru, snarls, with a considerable amount of venom in his voice. Considering that he's wearing a bedspread, wrapped around him like a cloak, and Scotty is similarly dressed to Jim, in boxers and hoodie, Leonard is pretty sure he can guess just _why _Pavel is so annoyed. 

"Jeeze, 'thank goodness you're alright Jim, I'm so glad you didn't _die_, Jim,'" Jim says, the sarcasm in his voice plain, "It's not like your microwave tried to kill me or anything. A little sympathy wouldn't hurt, Bones." 

"What the hell did you do to the microwave?" Leonard growls, but he's subtly checking Jim's vitals even as he does it, scanning every inch of skin he can see with a sharp gaze to make sure he's uninjured. 

"Nothing!" Jim yelps when Leonard takes his face in both hands to look into his eyes to check his pupils, "I was just heating up a burrito and the damn thing exploded!" 

"Did you take the foil off?" Leonard hasn't let go of Jim's face yet, he tilts his head left and right, looking for injuries. 

"Of course I took the damn foil off." Jim gumbles, struggling to get out of Leonard's grip, "Ow, Bones! Stop fussing!" 

Leonard doesn't have any sympathy for him, holding tight to stop him trying to escape his ministrations. "Shouldn't have blown up the microwave if you didn't want me to fuss." 

"I'm _fine_." Jim objects, twisting away from him. 

"I'll be the judge of that." Leonard growls, "Last I checked you're not a doctor." 

"Neither are _you," _Jim is shivering, and Leonard sets his bag down so he can shrug out of his coat, "Not yet, anyway." 

Leonard offers up his coat wordlessly, despite Jim's sass, and holds it out until Jim sighs and accepts it, shrugging into the garment with a sigh, pulling it tight around him. Leonard bends to pick up his bag again, and before he's slung the strap back around his body, Jim is pressed against his side, leaning into him comfortably. 

"You're warm." He announces. 

"And you're an idiot." Leonard tells him, but he obligingly puts an arm around Jim's shoulders and presses a kiss against his temple. 

Someone nearby makes comical retching noises, and Jim flips them off without moving from his position, cuddled close. "Screw you, 'Karu!" He calls. 

"Already taken!" Hikaru calls back, his voice full of laughter. 

"Damn right you are." Leonard murmurs possessively into Jim's hair. 


	10. Trust Issues (Ash/Chris)

Ash is watching the stars in silence again. He does that a lot these days. Well, it’s possible that he’s always done it, and that Chris has one recently been allowed to witness it, but more and more often he’s noticing Ash just sitting or lying or standing there, watching the stars pass. They’re at impulse power for now, and the room is lit by the glow of the nebula they’re traversing. It paints Ash in an almost ethereal light, but to Chris, it reminds him too much of the months spent trapped in another nebula, and that in turn makes him think back to Talos IV, and then back even further, to being seventeen and buried under hundreds of feet of rock. When he comes back to himself, Ash has turned away from the stars, and is watching him with a concerned line between his brows.

“You still don’t trust me.” He says, and the hurt in his voice renders Chris breathless.

“I’m trying to.” Chris reaches across the space between them and Ash doesn’t even hesitate to lean into his arms.

“I know.” Ash mumbles. There's something in his voice, like he doesn't really expect Chris to mean it, like he feels he doesn't _deserve _his trust, or even Chris' effort. It's something they've talked about before, how Ash feels like he's not worth much, and how Chris is trying to trust him as much as he can, even though he doesn't really have reason to. 

"I want to." Chris says, "And I'm trying." 

"But I haven't proved myself yet I know." Ash's expression is neutral, but his voice betrays the bone-deep hurt he's clearly feeling as he pulls away again. 

Chris is blindsided for a moment. How could Ash have got it so phenomenally wrong? 

"That's...that's not it." He says, and Ash turns to him, giving him a sharp, confused look, brows drawn together. "Ash." Chris reaches for him, takes one of Ash's hands in both of his own, "This isn't your fault. You don't have to prove anything."

Chris pulls Ash into his arms, and Ash doesn't even resist for a second, going where Chris wants him, cautious but still trusting. It's something that Chris still sees as a rare gift. Ash has been hurt so many times, so badly, that Chris doesn't know how he can trust at all, much less someone who treated him with open suspicion, and worse, when they'd first met. 

"I'm the one who needs to work on this." Chris murmurs into Ash's hair, "I'm the one who's at fault here." 

Ash still looks confused. 

"You're perfect, Ash." Chris promises, and Ash laughs, a little bitter, a little hurt, like he doesn't believe Chris at all. "I'm the one who messed up. I'm the one who needs to work on this. You're not doing anything wrong." 

He knows he's hit the mark on those last few words when Ash settles back into his embrace and relaxes fully against him, reassured. 


	11. Missed Flight (Michael/Philippa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Seattle? Literally it was the first place I thought of 😂

_"This is a message for passengers catching flight AA1031 to Seattle. Due to staff unavailability, this flight has been cancelled. Please make your way to the customer service kiosk for further information." _

"Shit!" Michael snarled, scrubbing a hand over her hair in frustration. This had been her last chance to get home to see her family in time for the holidays, and from the angry chatter currently rising throughout the departure lounge, she wasn't the only one. Glancing around herself, she could see a line already forming in front of the customer service kiosk. With a groan, she fished her phone out of her jacket pocket, and sent off a quick text to her adoptive mom, telling her that her flight was cancelled and that she'd get back to her as soon as she knew anything. 

The phone was ringing before she could even get it back in her, pocket, but Michael just put it on silent and shoved it away nonetheless. She was in no mood for an actual conversation right now. 

"Disappointed boyfriend?" Asked a voice, and Michael suppressed and let go of the urge to snap at the person asking it, and turned to meet warm, dark eyes, set in a smiling face belonging to an older woman, dressed in smart business clothes, sitting across and a few seats down from her. 

"Parents, actually," Michael admitted. She wasn't sure why, but there was something about this woman that immediately drew her in and set her interest alight. 

"Ah." The woman smiled, "Sometimes, they are worse." 

Michael tried to control the amusement that rose within her, but a small laugh slipped out nonetheless. "Sometimes I think a partner would be easier to deal with." She admitted, "At least that way they'd stop asking me when I was going to find one." 

The woman let out a laugh of her own, warm and musical, "Yes, the ceaseless questioning." She said, with an amused but knowing tone. She adopted a concerned expression, "'Why are you still single?'" She quoted, "'You need to make a good match!' We're just worried about you'." She rolled her eyes. 

Michael couldn't help the laugh that escaped, bubbling up unbidden, just one at first, but swiftly followed by another, and another, until she was breathless. The woman laughed along with her, eyes sparkling. 

"I apologise." Michael said after a moment, "But you just quoted my family members almost exactly. You're just missing the 'of course we want you to be happy, Michael' part." 

"Michael?" The woman asked, "That's an unusual name." She was smiling as she said it. 

"After my father." Michael explained. 

The woman nodded, "I'm Philippa." She extended a hand, and Michael took it. Her grip was firm, but not overpowering, her hand itself dry and warm and surprisingly reassuring. Philippa glanced towards the kiosk, "I doubt they will have another flight organised until morning. Perhaps you would like to share a hotel room with me until then?" She offered, with a wink. 


	12. Loss of Faith (Ash/Chris)

Another mission completed, another planet willing to open negotiations with the Federation for their knowledge and resources. No casualties. The crew are happy, the sense of accomplishment almost palpable in the hallways and corridors of the ship. The brass is happy, the message he had received that morning had been full of praise for his conduct and the conduct of his crew during the initial contact. It's the best possible outcome for all involved.

Once, that alone would have been enough. Once, a successful mission like this one would have been reminding Chris of the reason he joined Starfleet in the first place, of his drive to help people, his desire to lead. Now, he just feels...empty. WHat's the point of it anymore? Why bother? Another planet joins the Federation. So what? Why does it matter?

"You're brooding." Ash says, leaning over Chris' shoulder, his lips bare centimetres from his ear, "Stop it." 

"I'm not." Chris grumbles back, but there's warmth underneath the words. He leans back in his chair, into the warmth of Ash's body. Ash always runs hot. 

"You are." Ash kisses his temple gently, his beard ticking Chris' face, "I mean, it's a very attractive look on you, but you could be doing other things right now." 

"Could I just?" 

"Yeah." Ash's voice is low, a warm inviting tone in it that Chris knows will lead them both straight to bed together if he lets it. He could. It would be so easy to fall into bed with Ash, like he has so many times, and let warm hands and soft, inviting lips wash away all his doubts and fears. 

He tips his head back a little, so he can look upwards at Ash, standing above and behind him. 

"Hi." Ash says, looking down at him and laughing a little at the ridiculousness of the angle. 

"Hey." Chris murmurs back. 

"Come to bed." Ash offers, "You're not going to get anything done sitting out here." 

"I'm not sure there's a point to_ getting_ anything done." Chris mutters back darkly. He doesn't really mean for Ash to hear it, doesn't want to burden him with his doubts, but Ash hears it anyway, and a crease takes up residence between his dark eyebrows. 

"What are you talking about?" He asks, rounding the chair and dropping to his knees in front of Chris, looking up at him with earnest brown eyes. At any other time, Chris would find such a view _intensely _arousing. 

"I'm struggling to remember why I joined Starfleet." Chris admits, trying not to choke on his doubts. "It just feels like so much work...for what? Another planet, another negotiation? Why?" 

Ash looks at him for a moment, eyes dark and sad. "I don't know." He says finally, "I don't know why I joined either, some days. I don't know why I stay." His hands flex in his lap, "If you weren't here...I probably wouldn't." He admits, voice quiet in the stillness of the cabin. 


	13. Mutation (Paul/Hugh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post season 2 finale (spoilers).

"You know, technically, we need to apply for an interspecies marriage license." Paul wanders out of the bathroom, hair still damp, followed by a burst of warm air. 

Hugh looks up at his husband from where he's sprawled, lazy and comfortable, on their bed. "We need to what now?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Think about it." Hugh persists, flopping down next to him, disturbing the pillows, "My DNA isn't entirely human anymore. I'm a new species. A mutant." 

Hugh can't help but laugh a little at that. It's technically true he supposes, but he's not sure others in the scientific community would see it as such. Actually, he's not sure there even _is _a scientific community to speak of here. They haven't encountered anyone else since they arrived in what was once their very distant future, but is now their very immediate present. For all they knew, there was no-one. For all they knew, there were no more humans, extinction or genetic changes or...

He let the thought slip away, before he started to fixate on it. There was no point focusing on a question that he wasn't going to be able to answer. 

"You're ridiculous." He says gently, and Paul laughs. 

"I thought you liked my ridiculous." 

"Oh, I do." Hugh confirms, reaching over to pull him into a gentle kiss, one that still feels both strange and new, and like coming home. They've been working their way up to their old level of physical intimacy over the last few weeks, ever since Paul was released from sickbay. 

"You've already said that to me." Paul mumbles between slow kisses, and Hugh laughs against his lips. It feels so comfortable, so familiar, like everything he's been missing, like everything he'd thought he'd forgotten, trapped for time immeasurable in the Mycelial Network without hope of escape, or without even knowing that escape was an option. 

He'd lost so much of himself there. He's forgotten the outside world. The people and places he'd loved, what it felt like to touch another living being. He'd forgotten Paul. He'd forgotten everything, but it had only taken one touch to reawaken it all in him. 

Something nags at Hugh, at the back of his mind as he tugs Paul down on top him on the bed. He's a being, initially comprised of memories, brought to this dimension from the Mycelial Network, created from the Jah'sepp's transportation pod. Is _he _human? Or is he just a very convincing fake? 

The scans had said he was human. But the scans had said Ash Tyler was human, too. 

"What's wrong?" Paul asks, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at him, concerned. 

"Just thinking." Hugh pushes his thoughts to the side. He has more immediate things to focus on. 

"Well don't." Paul kisses him firmly, and Hugh lets himself get lost in it, ignores the thoughts clamouring at him and redirects that energy towards the soft lips against his and the warmth in his heart. 


	14. Full-Body Bondage (Gen.)

"How?" Is the first thing that Captain Pike asks them when he enters the engineering bay.

It's a valid question, Tilly thinks, and she'd happily, _happily_ answer it, but her mouth has been covered by tendrils since this whole thing started; she's having enough trouble just breathing. 

Stamets, uncharacteristically, is silent. It might have something to do with his being upside down, suspended by the grip another of the tendrils has around his ankles, and similarly gagged. 

"There's not really an easy explanation." Reno drawls lazily. She'd made her way into their bay after they'd been grabbed, and had been cautious enough to remain out of reach the entire time. 

"Well, given that you weren't actually here at the time when-" Stamets starts, but he's cut off by the tendrils tightening further, cutting off his air. He kicks and struggles, which only appears to make the situation worse. 

"Commander, stay still!" Tilly tries to warn him, but her voice is muffled, and it doesn't really do much to calm her superior officer. 

Thankfully, Reno sees a more direct route, and reaches for the laser cutter on the workstation beside her. She flicks the switch and points it at the vines securing Stamets. 

"Uh, Commander Reno?" Captain Pike starts, "Are you aware of what we're dealing with here?" 

"No idea, Sir, but I figured you'd want mushroom boy here unwrapped sooner rather than later." Reno shrugs, gesturing with the cutter. 

"I'm also concerned that...whatever _that _is," Pike waves towards the plant, "It may be a new form of sentient life. I'd rather not start off relations with an attack." 

"So what do you want me to do?" Reno asks him. 

Tilly looks over at Commander Stamets, to see the question mirrored in his expression. 

"Untangle them." Pike says firmly, "Gently. I'll send a team to help." 

Reno mutters something that knowing her, is sarcastic-bordering-on-insubordinate, but she turns the laser cutter off and puts it down. Tilly isn't sure, but the vines wrapped around her feel like they've relaxed, just a little. 

They still don't really know _what _they are. Tilly doesn't have a tricorder within reach, but they'd opened a vat of what was supposed to be growth medium for a new subspecies of fungi, and instead been greeted by a mass of waving, twisting vine like...things that had grabbed onto them and secured them up near the ceiling. 

"How much longer till you get that mess untangled?" Stamets griped at Reno, who wasn't actually helping, having taken up a vantage point on the ladder, overseeing the team of science officers who were working to extricate them from the vines. 

"Commander-" One of a science staff, a quiet Vulcan, started. 

"It'll take them as long as it takes them." Reno says over him. She's still brandishing the laser cutter, "Be more like your ensign and zip it." 

Tilly can't point out that she's quiet because she's got a bunch of vines over her mouth, but she desperately wants to. 


	15. Running Late (Tilly & Jim)

She’s running late. Her first day and she’s already running late, and all because of her stupid hair not behaving itself after her hand-to-hand combat class. Maybe Siobhan has been right when she’d told Tilly that she should cut it before enrolling at the Academy. But no, she’d been determined. Her hair was a part of her. And now it had made her late to her first class.

“Fifteen, fifteen, where the _fuck _is room fifteen?” Tilly muttered to herself, scanning signage frantically. She had a map on her PADD, but it was buried in her bag, and she didn’t have time to stop to find it. 

All the corridors in the sciences building look the same, grey carpets and light walls and ambiguous blue art. And not enough signs. 

"Shit." Tilly snarls, "Shit shit shit!" She drags a hand through her hair, pushing the curls askew and out of her face, messing up her previously pristine regulation bun. "I don't believe this!" She turns another corner, and runs face-first into somebody's chest. 

Unbalanced, Tilly tumbled backwards, remembering at only the last minute to throw her arms out beside her like she'd learned that very morning. Landing on carpet still hurts, a lot harder than landing on mats had. 

"Ow, shit!" Tilly snarled, rubbing at her elbow where it had hit the ground. 

"You okay?" 

Tilly looked up into a friendly face, eyes wide in concern. 

"Ouch," The complained, but she accepted the hand that was offered. It belongs to a cadet who looked a little older than she was, his uniform indicated that he was a second-year, command-track cadet. 

He pulled her to her feet easily, offering her a friendly smile, "I gathered that." He said, "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." 

"No, it's my fault!" Tilly insisted, "I'm running late and I don't know where I'm going and I wasn't looking!" She was getting flustered, she could feel her cheeks heating; embarrassed to have run into someone who technically didn't outrank her but also sort of did, to have fallen in front of him, to have lost her cool and sworn...

"Well, maybe I can help?" The cadet offered, "This place is a disaster, but I think I know my way around enough. Where are you headed?" 

"Lab fifteen." Tilly rubbed at her elbow again. Her fingers were still tingling. 

"Oh, I know where that is!" A wide grin splits his face, "It's this way!" 

He starts off down the corridor, then stops and turns to look at her when she doesn't immediately follow him, "You coming?" He asks, and Tilly scrambles to keep up. "I'm Jim, by the way." He says as they walk, "Jim Kirk." 

"Sylvia Tilly." 

"It's nice to meet you, Sylvia Tilly." Jim smiles, "So you're a first year cadet, what are you thinking of specialising in?" 

Tilly bites her lip. Surely this cadet wouldn't think she wanted something unattainable, right? "I wanna be a captain." She admits. 

Jim nods, "Me too." 


	16. Identity Crisis (Ash/Chris)

Ash paces. Chris watches from his seat on the Ready Room couch, PADD in hand, as his husband stalks from one end of the room to the other and back again. He's deep in thought, Chris can tell; his gaze distant, his lips moving silently as he mutters to himself. Chris is an above-average lip-reader - courtesy of six weeks he'd spent temporarily deafened after getting to close to an explosion in his first year as captain - and he can tell Ash isn't speaking Standard. 

It's never bothered him the same way it bothers some other people. Chris knows that a lot of that is that he wasn't around...before. He wasn't there when Voq was still a present part of Ash, he wasn't there when the two consciousnesses were struggling from dominance. He might have read the reports, but now that he knows the man, and that eclipses a lot of things in his eyes. 

Not in Ash's though, he knows. There are nights when Ash goes quiet and distant, when he shies away from Chris' touch, becomes uncomfortable with even simple statements of affection. Even two years into their marriage, there are mornings when Chris wakes up alone because Ash has slipped away in the night to pace corridors, or sit in silence on the observation deck, staring out at the stars, lost in who knows what thoughts and memories and guilt. 

_"I don't know who I am." _Ash has told him, more than once. 

He's said it in anger, spitting it toward Chris like a curse; in pain, curled forwards in a defensive ball as if hiding from invisible enemies, in confusion and hurt, a quiet admittance on the nights that Chris follows him. 

_"You're Ash Tyler." _Chris tells him, every time, reaching for his hand. Sometimes Ash lets him take it. Sometimes he draws away. 

_"I don't know who that is anymore._" Sometimes it's said through choking sobs, sometimes in a tone at steady as steel. 

_"You don't have to_." Chris will murmur, and he won't reach for Ash again, will wait until Ash moves. 

Sometimes Ash rages at him, tell him that's not an answer, that Chris doesn't understand what he's gone through, what he's _going _through, and Chris will nod and accept it without rising to the fight. Sometimes, Ash will just nod silently, and continue staring vaguely into space. Sometimes though, he'll just mumble a quiet acceptance, and lean into Chris' arms, settling back into his embrace where Chris likes him the most. 

"Ash." Chris says, and Ash halts his pacing, head snapping up to look at him, "Come here." 

He sees the resistance, just for a second, but then Ash is moving, is on the sofa next to Chris, and Chris puts his PADDs aside and pulls him into his arms. Ash sighs heavily, and leans against his shoulder. Chris taps him lightly on the temple.

"What's going on in there?" He asks gently. 

Ash shrugs, "I don't know who I am anymore." 


	17. Overheating (Michael/Tilly)

"Are you alright?" Michael asks, settling onto the sand next to where Tilly is lying in an undignified sprawl under the canopy. 

"I'm dead." Tilly answers bluntly. 

"No, you're not." Michael lifts the edge of the sunhat and smiles down at her, "You just kind of feel like it right now." 

"Uuuuugh." Tilly groans expressively, "Why did I think I could handle this again?"  


"I did warn you that the temperatures here weren't suited to those unused to them at this time of year," Michael starts, but before she can continue, one hand grabs at the front of her shirt, and pulls down, sharply, leaving her to flop forwards until she's leaning over her lover's prone form. 

"Shh." Tilly tells her firmly, "I know." 

She leans up to kiss Michael, and Michael relaxes into it after a short moment. They're alone out here, the beach is secluded enough that nobody really bothers to come here, too far out of the way and only accessible by a steep, rocky track that gets the worst of the sun. Tilly had insisted on coming here when Michael had told her about it, and even if her love is overheated and in need of a rest in the shade now, Michael is starting to understand why. 

It's hard to love someone in the public eye on Vulcan. At least here, she's not Ambassador Sarek's daughter. At least here, she's just Michael, and Tilly is just Tilly, and there's nothing to disturb them but the waves and the wind and the cry of seabirds. It's a sort of freedom she's only ever felt before in open space, with only the thin barrier of an EV suit between her and the void. 

Tilly's skin is soft and sun-warmed under her hands, and she laughs into Michael's kiss, sitting up in the sand so that Michael settles comfortably into her lap. It's one of her favourite places to be, and she's not shy about admitting it when it's just the two of them. 

"Will you come swim with me?" Tilly asks, after a few more languid kisses. 

"That _is _why we hiked all the way here." Michael points out, laughing. 

Tilly wrinkles her nose in that delightful way of hers, amusement and delight warring on her freckled face, but she follows Michael up from their shaded spot and down towards the brilliant blue waves lapping the shoreline. 

The water is sun-warm where it's shallow, lapping around their thighs, but cooling as they wade deeper, until Tilly leans against Michael's bare skin to stave off the cold, clinging to her, as if Michael is in danger of drifting away otherwise. 

"Thank you for bringing me here." Tilly murmurs against Michael's temple, and Michael smiles that wide, unburdened smile that Tilly loves, the one that so rarely comes out, and Tilly just _has _to kiss her then. 

Michael is still smiling against her mouth, even as she kisses back, her joy overflowing, bright like sunshine on warm golden sands. 


	18. Love Triangle (Chris/Una, Ash/Chris)

"You're in love with my husband, aren't you?" 

Ash Tyler freezes, snapping to attention on instinct. "Ma'am?" He asks. 

First Lady Una laughs, a low, warm sound, stepping out of the archway that had concealed her from his eyes. Ash is momentarily mad that he'd missed her, but then again, they're in the inner sanctum of the building, no incursion has ever made it this far undetected.

"Don't play coy, Agent Tyler." Una is smiling, and it's not the smile Ash has seen levelled at visiting diplomats and world leaders; it's warmer, more genuine. "It's obvious." 

"It...it is?" He manages, stunned. He'd thought he'd keep his steadily blossoming feelings for President Christopher Pike under wraps, but apparently not. _Fuck. _

"Don't worry," Una reassures, placing a hand on his arm, the wine red of her nails bright against his jacket, "Only to someone as close to him as we are. You really think we wouldn't be dealing with the press if someone else had realised." 

"I'm sorry." Ash murmurs, because there's no use denying it. 

"Don't be." Una grips his arm a little harder, "He takes it as a compliment." 

"Oh god." Ash can feel his face heat, he wants nothing more than to run, or hide, or something of the sort. 

"He's been absolutely impossible since he realised." Una starts walking, and she doesn't let go of Ash's arm, so he follows her, rather than risk pulling away and pissing her off. Even after two years, he can't always read her. 

Una leads him through the halls. This late, there are few people still onsite; only a few aides and janitorial staff finishing up for the night. Una has a nod and a greeting and a half-smile for all of them, but she doesn't stop, intent on leading Ash to... the residential suites. 

Seldom actually used, except when Chris is in the height of negotiations or some other concern that keeps him here and away from home overnight or longer, the suite is decorated in a neat, minimalist style that still seems to retain warmth and comfort. Ash is positive that that's Una's hand at work, not Chris'. If it were up to Chris, the decor would have more of a ranch style to it, Ash is sure. 

Ash isn't prepared for Una to lead him directly into their living room. 

Chris is seated on the black sofa, reading over something on a laptop computer, but he looks up when they enter, his eyes going from Una to Ash, and back again. 

"I take it he agreed, then." He says mildly, closing the laptop and setting it aside. 

"Not yet, but I thought I'd let you do the asking." Una releases her hold on Ash's arm, finally. 

"Una." Chris says, disapprovingly, "You were supposed to explain everything to him _before _you dragged him here." 

"Tell him about your crush yourself." Una retorts, but it's with a smile, "He should get to hear it from you." 

Ash blinks, "Wait, what?" 


	19. Impaired Consent (Leonard/Jim)

Leonard pulls Jim out of the third bar he finds him in. Honestly, he's kind of surprised he found him that easily. 

"You're hot." Jim slurs, leaning against him as Leonard tries to wrestle him into the back of the cab. 

"You're drunk." Leonard grumbles, putting a hand in the middle of Jim's chest and shoving, hard enough that Jim sprawls backwards over the seats. For a moment, he doesn't move, and Leonard is about to dive in after him to make sure he hasn't passed out and isn't about to choke on his own vomit, but then Jim struggles back into a seated position, and reaches for Leonard with grasping hands. 

Which is of course when Leonard realises that he has to get into the back seat alongside Jim in order to see his drunk ass safely back to campus. _Goddamnit. _

With a frustrated sigh, Leonard slides into the seat next to Jim, and drags the door closed. Jim reaches for him before the locks even engage, and Leonard catches the very, _very _grabby hands before they can wander into his shirt. 

"Hands to yourself, Jim." He growls, and Jim pouts at him, eye big and wide and pleading. 

"Come oooooon, Bones." He complains, "Don't be such a prude!" 

Leonard pushes him away, but gently. He knows Jim gets a little flirty - okay a _lot _flirty - when he's drunk sometimes; and honestly a sexually aggressive Jim is physically easier to deal with than a just plain old aggressive Jim, but Leonard wishes Jim wasn't coming on _him _right now. 

It's hard enough to be in love with your best friend when he's _not _making drunken advances on you. When he's plastered up against Leonard's side, and trying his damndest to get his hand into Leonard's pants, it's damn near unbearable. 

Leonard hopes the cab drives fast. 

"Jim, stop it." He says, using the tone he reserves for the direst of emergencies at the clinic. 

Jim freezes instantly, his eyes going wide and hurt and scared, then retreats, pressing himself into the door on the opposite side of the back seat from Leonard. 

"Sorry." He mumbles, blue gaze downcast. He looks like a kicked puppy, and Leonard instantly feels like a dick. 

"Hey, no, I'm sorry." He says, and Jim looks up at him, eyes wet and sad, "Look, you can come over here, you just gotta keep your hands to yourself, okay?" 

Jim nods hurriedly, and flings himself back over to Leonard's side of the cab, pressing himself against Leonard's side, and resting his head on his shoulder. It's more contact that Leonard is used to from Jim, but he can handle it as long as Jim's hand's stay where they are; still, and on the _outside _of Leonard's jacket. 

That's all fine, until Jim tilts his head, and starts pressing untidy kisses to the underside of Leonard's jaw. 

"_Jim._" Leonard says, letting a warning tone creep into his voice. 

"You only said my _hands_." Jim mumbles back. 

"Goddamnit." 


	20. Amnesia (Ash/Chris)

Ash is generally pretty good at the whole 'being patient' thing. He spent months in captivity, after all, and even longer rebuilding an intelligence network, and you can't do that without a little patience. But waiting for his husband to come out of a - admittedly very minor - surgery is somehow more difficult than any of those things. 

Ash knows it's because he loves Chris, and because even though there's very little actual risk involved, his mind still tells him that there's danger, and Chris is the one in it. 

He's been pacing in the little waiting room long enough that the reception staff are starting to give him dirty looks, but he pretends he hasn't noticed, like he pretended he hadn't noticed one of them sneaking snacks in to eat at her desk earlier, and continues his pacing. He's good at waiting. He can do this. 

He's about worn a path into the plush carpet by the time he's summoned back by one of the nurses with a friendly smile. 

"He's awake, he's fine, but he's a little confused from the anaesthesia." She explains as they walk the corridors. Ash appreciates her brisk pace, "So don't be surprised if he's talking nonsense." 

A quip about Chris always talking nonsense comes to mind, but Ash doesn't voice it, just nods curtly. He has a threatening aura to keep up, after all. 

Chris looks like he usually does coming around from surgery - pale and unnaturally still, even though his eyes are open. He's staring at the ceiling, and when Ash is ushered into his room, it's clear that it takes him a couple of moments to actually focus on him, squinting and struggling a little. 

"Hey, Chris." Ash sits by his bed. 

Chris turns his head to look at him and blinks slowly a few times. 

"You my new nurse?" He mumbles, a confused line between his brows. 

Ash tries not to burst into laughter, instead managing a low noise of what might be assent. This has happened before; more than once in fact. Chris usually doesn't remember afterwards, and Ash always wishes he'd thought to record footage of it. 

"No, Chris." He says, smiling the soft smile that no-one else sees, "I'm your husband."   


"I...my...what?" Chris asks, "My husband?" 

"Yes." Ash nods, trying to stay serious about it. 

_"Wow_." Chris breathes, his voice taking on a tone of wonderment, "How the hell did I manage to land a gorgeous guy like you?" 

Ash bites the inside of his cheek to keep the laugh in. 

Chris stays there, looking as Ash with wide eyes and occasionally shaking his head in astonishment and muttering about how attractive Ash is until the lingering effects of the anaesthetic pull him back into unconsciousness again. 

When he wakes, a short while later and far more coherent, Ash is still there. 

"Hey, husband." Ash says with a smirk. 

Chris groans, "Did I forget again?" He asks, abashed. 

"Yes, but it was hilarious." Ash informs him. 


	21. Lost Object (Jim/Leonard)

By the time he’s torn his apartment apart, gone through every pile of stuff he’s amassed, and called everyone in his contact list to double-check, Jim is starting to accept that this folio is actually gone, and he’s actually fucked. 

How the _hell _had he managed to lose it? Where could he have left it? Why did he think it was a good idea to carry it with him when it had his final in it? It’s less than a week until he’s supposed to submit the plans, there’s no way he can re-do it in that time, not on top of al the other classes he’s supposed to be taking. 

“Fuck!” Jim snarls, turning in place, running both his hands through his hair, “Fuck fuck fuck!” He lashes out, kicking sharply at the sofa. It doesn’t make him feel better, and the pain in his toe just adds to the generally overwhelmed and upset feeling. He wants to hit something. He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to disappear. 

Mostly, Jim wants to turn around and have his folio sitting there in front of him, with the plans for his engineering final safe inside. 

Of course, that isn’t going to happen, so with a heavy heart, Jim snags his laptop from his tiny apartment’s kitchen table, and flops down on his futon to write a pleading email to his unit supervisor, begging for an extension. 

He’s halfway through trying to explain that it’s really, _really _not his fault, when his phone rings. 

Jim eyes it suspiciously. It’s an unknown number, but not a private one. It’s probably not his mom. 

“Hello?” He says, picking up. 

“Hello, is this Jim?” A rich, deep voice asks. Jim is already in love with this man’s accent, whoever he is. 

Fervently praying that this man isn’t gonna try to scam him or sell him something, Jim manages a “Yes.” 

“My name is Leonard McCoy. I’ve got your…folder.” The man explains, “I found it on the train.” 

“Oh thank _fuck_.” Jim groans expressively.

There’s a low laugh from the phone. “Don’t worry it’s safe.”

“Where can I meet you?” Jim asks immediately, “It’s got a final project in it, I really need it back.” 

Leonard suggests a cafe that isn’t too far away, and Jim remembers that his address is also written on the folio along with his number. He also resolves to at least _offer _to buy him a coffee in thanks. 

That thought goes from a vague idea to an absolute imperative when he sees the man standing outside the cafe holding his folio. 

"Hi!" Jim waves, "I'm Jim!" 

"Leonard." He hands over the folio, and Jim can't stop himself from quickly checking the contents. The plans are there, safe and sound. 

"Thank you so much for this." Jim says, "Can I buy you a coffee?" He shouldn't throw in the wink, it's cheesy and lame, but he does anyway. 

"Only if I can buy you one too." 


	22. Homesickness (Pavel/Scotty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Aisha for the idea for this one.

"I haven't seen them in...a long time." Pavel explains, sitting cross-legged at the end of Scotty's beat-up couch, "And it will only be for a week." 

Scotty nods, takes a sip of beer, "You're like a month ahead of the rest of the class, aren't you? It's not gonna hurt your studies." 

"Hmm." Pavel nods, uneasy. There's something that doesn't feel quite right about going to spend a week with his mother's family while they're in town for a wedding, but he was being truthful when he told Scotty it's been a long time since he saw them. His father might never have accepted his coming-out, but his mother has gradually come around to the idea, maybe it will be nice. 

* 

It's not nice. 

Time may have initially softened his mother's opinions, but it turns out that proximity to a family wedding brings them back in full force. Pavel tolerates the comments about how lovely the bride and groom are together, and about how much his mother enjoys a wedding; he barely grits his teeth when she expresses disappointment that he won't be giving her that anytime soon, and somehow manages to contain the urge to throw something when she sighs about how it's such a shame that gay marriage is legal now, and that it's 'just not the same'. 

All in all, he's amazed he makes it through even half of the reception before he slips out of the hall, calls an uber back to his motel room, and packs his bags in silence. 

He doesn't tell her he's going, and he doesn't tell Scotty that he's coming back, too wrapped up in his own anger and frustration and hurt. 

* 

Scotty looks like he's just rolled out of bed when Pavel bangs on his apartment door, and it's with a guilty glance at the time that he realises it's because Scotty probably _has. _

“Sorry.” Pavel offers, as Scotty stares at him in confusion. 

“Don’t be.” Scotty opens the door wider, beckons him inside, “What happened?” 

Pavel waits until he’s back in his familiar place at the end of Scotty’s couch, shoes kicked off, feet curled up underneath him, before he tells the whole story; his mother’s rejection, her casual hatred, the comments and looks that he couldn’t stand another minute. 

“So I came home.” He says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Scotty doesn't say anything for a moment, and when Pavel looks up, it's because he's frozen in place, staring at him in wonderment. 

"What?" Pavel asks, confused. 

"'Home'?" Scotty asks. 

"Of course." Pavel feels the smile make it's way across his face, "Where else would I see as home? And with who else?" 

"I thought... your family..." 

Pavel laughs, "My family are assholes." He proclaims, "Home hasn't been with them for a while now. I just didn't realise it." 

Scotty slings an arm around Pavel's shoulders, and Pavel leans into his side, settling against him comfortably. 

"Welcome home." Scotty murmurs into his hair. 


End file.
